


Newt's Trials

by newtedison



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtedison/pseuds/newtedison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas could only imagine what Newt had gone through in his Trials. (Newt's Phase Three, basically.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Newt's Trials

White. All around him was white.  
Newt had been staring at the same four white walls for what felt like years, but really had only been three weeks. Time didn’t exist to him; being alone with his thoughts left him in a trance, sitting against the wall, legs out in front of him, eyes dark and sagging like a zombie with no will to even try and find food. He barely moved, he barely ate. He thought until he fell asleep, then shook with nightmares and woke up to more thoughts, then fell asleep again. He couldn’t break out of the cycle. He didn’t have the energy to.  
Since waking up in this room the day after they escaped the Scorch, he spent a lot of his time thinking about what happened to the other former Gladers. If they had been taken, what they were going through. If they were staring at the same white walls that he was.  
A lot of times, he had flashbacks of the Glade. Picking berries in the Garden, having Gatherings with Alby, running the Maze. He cringed at that every time; being alone in here left him a lot of time to go back to those thoughts. The thoughts that made him feel hollow, like the fall from the Maze walls to the floor was the best and only thing he’d ever want.  
But he always managed to shake those thoughts off, because his mind always drifted to the one thing, the one reason that he hadn’t tried to kill himself again.  
Tommy.  
Newt worried about Tommy constantly. WICKED had taken a special interest in him before; it was no doubt they would do it again. Who knows what they were doing to him? Were they picking apart his brain, taking away his memories again? Were they beating him senseless until he would comply? Anxiety filled Newt up like a balloon; sometimes he felt like he would explode in a messy rage, or sadness, or who knows what. He wished he had some outlet to take it out on, but the only thing in the room was a toilet.  
So he sat. And he thought. And he worried. He worried so much.  
He had felt his eyes drooping back to sleep when the door at the end of the room opened. His head darted up; the sudden motion brought a wave of dizziness, but it quickly cleared once he saw who was in the room.  
It was Tommy.  
Newt felt his heart drop, then quicken. He swallowed nervously as Tommy entered the room. No, not simply entered; he stumbled in, almost as if he was running away from something. Newt stood up as he watched a Crank run in, slamming the door shut behind him. Newt flinched at the sudden impact.  
Tommy looked at the Crank with terror in his eyes, shrinking back against the wall. His chest heaved with deep breaths, and he looked around for help.  
“Tommy!” Newt screamed as the Crank slowly approached. Instinctively, Newt ran forward to attack the Crank, but was suddenly met with a jarring impact as he hit a wall. He stumbled back, shaking his head. Tommy and the Crank weren’t even phased; they didn’t even seem to notice he was there. Newt moved forward and reached his hands out until he met the flat surface. It was another of those clear walls like they had seen when they first escaped the Maze and the Rat Man told them about the Flare. Newt didn’t remember it being there when he first woke up and inspected the place.  
Newt looked back over at Tommy; his breaths were coming even quicker now, his eyes widening with every step the Crank took. He seemed to be relishing the pain in Tommy’s eyes, how fearful he was at what he might do. Newt banged on the glass with his fist, screamed Tommy’s name. But he couldn’t hear him, probably couldn’t see him. It was hopeless.  
Newt had no choice but to stand there and watch. He was shocked that Tommy wasn’t fighting back, or running around him, or trying to talk his way out of it. Tommy wasn’t one to back into a corner and give up, like Newt had. No, Tommy fought. He had the will to live, and the will to survive, and it was that will that made Newt fight to survive every day. Tommy gave him hope.  
The Crank finally made a swing at Tommy, searing a gash right across his face. Blood instantly started pooling out of the cuts, and soon the Crank was tackling Tommy to the ground. Newt tried foolishly to break through the wall, but to no avail. The Crank stayed on top of Tommy, flailing his arms with no direct purpose but to hurt. Newt could hear Tommy’s screams bouncing off the blindingly white walls. Drops of blood were dotting the floor. Newt’s heart felt like it was about to spring right out of his chest. He was screaming now, his throat raw from the effort. He banged on the wall so hard that his knuckles started bleeding. Tommy’s cries started to get weaker as the Crank laughed, a sickening, evil sound that made Newt’s blood boil. He tried one more time to ram himself through the wall, but all that left him was a shock running down his shoulder all the way to his bad leg. He stopped, his body too exhausted to keep going.  
Eventually, the Crank stopped attacking. Newt couldn’t see all of Tommy’s body but could tell he had stopped moving completely. His chest wasn’t moving. He had stopped breathing.  
Tears instantly filled Newt’s eyes, and a rage burned inside him like none he had ever felt. He wanted desperately to tear the Crank to pieces, fip his flesh off until there was nothing left. He knew that the blasted wall was the only thing separating him from complete homicide.  
As the Crank stayed over Tommy’s body, probably relishing in his handiwork, Newt felt a deep ache in his chest, like his lungs and heart had been ripped out of his body. A lump formed in his throat, and his hands shook. Tommy. The only thing that had kept him going in this awful world had been taken from him. Just when he thought life could be worth living again, his hope had been ripped away.  
Newt’s mind instantly flashed back to the first day Tommy came up from the Box. He  
looked just like all the other Greenies had, their eyes filled with panic and confusion, a million questions pouring out of them. But soon enough, Tommy proved that he was different. He ran into the Maze without even a second thought to save Minho and Alby. Sure, he was a shuck idiot to do that, but he was brave. Newt could barely face life and Tommy faced death straight on, no fear. He was inspiring and incredible. And now he was gone.  
The tears finally started escaping his eyes when, suddenly, Tommy and the Crank disappeared.  
No movement. Newt hadn’t even blinked, and suddenly they were gone. Newt furrowed his brow in confusion, the tears momentarily stopping. He looked around the room, seeing if they had fallen through some sort of trap door he hadn’t seen. But all there was were the same four white walls. Even Tommy’s blood had disappeared off of the floor. The only thing that remained the same was the clear wall in front of him.  
Newt stood there, frozen, trying to come up with a logical explanation for what just happened. He was about to scream in frustration when the Rat Man walked in. The sight of him made Newt’s blood boil again; he reminded Newt that he was just a mouse, a subject, an experiment. The Gladers meant nothing to them other than numbers and facts. They were just a means to an end, no matter the consequences. Newt couldn’t stand it.  
Newt stood there, jaw clenched, his hands in fists at his sides. Every muscle in him felt ready to pounce and attack the Rat Man, even though he knew he couldn’t. It took every ounce of energy in him to not try one more time and break down the wall.  
The Rat Man cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Well done, Newt,” he said, that classic monotone voice proving that Newt was just a mouse who had performed well.  
Newt stood there, saying nothing. He didn’t want to delay getting the answers he needed.  
“Based on the psychobiological analysis we just performed, I can very well say that you are meeting up to your suggested patterns,” he continued, looking at some papers he had brought in with him. “Congratulations. Your Trials are complete.”  
Newt wasn’t surprised that this had all been another test. No WICKED guards had come in to stop the attack, and no alarms were blaring outside the door. They had used the blasted chip in his brain to analyze him...again. It made him furious, but he couldn’t deny the rush of relief passing through him knowing that Tommy was okay. That he wasn’t beaten senseless by the Crank, that he was still here, somewhere. It gave Newt the feeling of hope that only Tommy could supply.  
“So this was all a Test, then?” Newt asked, his voice flat but still clearly angry.  
“Correct,” Rat Man answered, with what should be a smile plastered on his face, but on him it always looked like a grimace. “And we believe to have come to a very...interesting conclusion.”  
“Go on,” Newt answered, starting to get impatient.  
“Like we’ve mentioned before, we have been analyzing your killzone since the moment you entered the Glade,” Rat Man explained, looking back down at his notes. “From the beginning, your brain chemistry was very imbalanced. You were constantly showing symptoms of depression, and you even attempted at taking your own life.”  
Newt cringed again at the mention of his suicide attempt. He self-consciously shifted his bad leg. Rat Man smiled again at that, knowing he was getting to Newt.  
“However, when Thomas entered the Glade, we noticed a shift in your brain chemistry,” Rat Man continued. “Your depressive symptoms almost completely vanished. Your sleep patterns reached a normal level. Your blood pressure decreased. We also noticed spikes in your dopamine and norepinephrine levels whenever Thomas was around, as well as a slight increase in your heart rate.”  
Newt looked down. His cheeks flushed, and his hands felt clammy. He didn’t like where this was going.  
“What are you trying to say?” he asked, even though he knew exactly what he was trying to say.  
“Well, we believe we have sufficient evidence to say that you are in love with Thomas.”  
Newt’s heart skipped a beat, and his face burned with embarrassment. He opened his mouth to deny the accusation, then immediately shut it. He had been trying to push those thoughts away, but as soon as the Rat Man said it, he knew he was right. He loved Tommy. He always had. And now WICKED knew it. Who knew what they were going to do with that information?  
“Don’t worry,” Rat Man said, a sick kind of chuckle escaping his lips. “We’re not going to tell him. But we have to admit, this is one Variable that we had never planned on. You threw us for quite the loop there, Newt.”  
“Yeah, well, sorry I don’t fit into your perfect plan,” Newt sneered, trying to hide his obvious embarrassment.  
“Oh, we well accounted for your...feelings,” Rat Man assured. “It’s quite interesting, to be honest.”  
Newt looked back down at the floor, feeling a rush of emotions. Embarrassment, mostly. Shame, how the Rat Man and the rest of the WICKED scientists figured out how Newt felt before he did. Fearful, because they knew and could tell Tommy whenever they wanted. But he felt something else there, too. A feeling, deep in his gut, that knew that he loved Tommy with everything he had. Now that he accepted it, it seemed to lift his soul. He was finally admitting the truth to himself, and, as much as he pained to admit it, he had to thank WICKED. He wouldn’t struggle with denying what he felt anymore. How everytime Tommy appeared, a smile almost instantly appeared on his face. How every little shoulder touch or friendly pat on the arm sent an electric shock through Newt and a flutter in his stomach. How he knew he would do anything, anything, to protect Tommy. And how he knew Tommy had changed his life for the better. He didn’t know what he would do without him.  
“Well, I think you’ve spent enough time in here,” the Rat Man said, pressing a button on some sort of remote at his side. Newt heard a quiet whoosh and reached his hands out; the clear wall had disappeared. “Come with me. I think it’s time you get back to your friend. And Thomas, of course.” He gave another sick chuckle at that.  
Newt’s heart skipped a beat. He was furious at how the Rat Man was teasing him, but he knew there was no point in attacking him. Besides, he was bringing him back to his friends. To Tommy. Newt was willing to hold the Rat Man’s hand if he had to, although the thought sickened him.  
They walked down long strips of hallways, passing doors identical to his, only with different numbers on them. Newt could only assume those were the rooms for the other Gladers, and wondered what they had been put through once again.  
Finally, they reached some sort of lounge or common area. Gladers were scattered around the room, some talking quietly, some laughing. Newt scanned the crowd and spotted Minho and Frypan talking, seemingly okay. But Newt knew that they had gone through their own Trials. He couldn’t imagine what they had gone through, and knew he shouldn’t ask. But his curiosity couldn’t help but wonder.  
He walked over to them, relieved to see familiar faces instead of the same white walls. They turned to him and smiled, genuine glee shining in their eyes, momentarily eliminating the hint of whatever happened to them. Newt smiled too, the first one in what felt like forever. It was nice.  
Minho and Frypan stood up, holding out their hands. Newt shook them and pulled them both in for a quick hug, too overcome by knowing they were all okay.  
“Been a crazy few weeks, Newt,” Minho said, that classic smirk on his face. “Glad to see you’re okay.”  
Newt was going to answer when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to see Tommy walking forward, the same sunken eyes and dark look in his face as every other Glader. A surge moved through Newt like none he had ever felt before. His heart practically lifted out of his chest, seeing Tommy in front of him, the real Tommy. Newt knew this wasn’t some simulation programmed in his brain; this was Tommy. Newt wasn’t sure how he knew the difference; everything WICKED programed him to see felt so real. But something, deep in his heart, knew that this was no trick. That this was the boy he loved.  
Tommy stopped when he saw Newt. He locked eyes with him, and Newt’s heart dropped, a rush of relief and joy and nervousness seeping through his being, causing his hands to tremble slightly. Tommy slowly started moving forward, and before Newt knew what he was doing, he rushed forward and grabbed Tommy in a tight embrace, clutching his shirt in his fist. He didn’t care that Minho and Frypan were watching; he knew he needed to hold Tommy, know he was here, he was real, that he was okay. Newt never wanted to lose him again.  
Tommy only hesitated for a split second before wrapping his arms around Newt, squeezing him tightly and resting his chin on Newt’s shoulder. They stood like that, holding each other, saying nothing. They both knew that the other had gone through something awful in their Trials, and no matter what it was, they were both here, right now.  
It was the only thing Newt could ever want.


End file.
